A Good End to a Life
by time2thrASH
Summary: Thane Krios. Assassin. Murderer. Hero. The man responsible for both the One Hour Massacre and the assault on the Collectors. As he dies, he reflects on the consequences of a lifetime spent ending the lives of others.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: There are several lines of dialogue taken directly from the EA/Bioware games Mass Effect 2 and Mass Effect 3, who also own all rights to characters. There is also a paragraph taken from another of my oneshots called "The Game", just in case anyone thinks I might be plagiarising._

* * *

A Good End to a Life

_C-Sec HQ, The Citadel, 2186 CE_

"**I point my pistol at the Cerberus agent's head. He sees me and counters with his left. I reel back, throwing my right. He grabs the back of my head, making contact with a right hook to my face. We trade blows as the Councillor runs behind Shepard, the agent grabs me and throws me down. His first mistake. I roll away, drawing my pistol. I fire, once, twice. The agent had disappeared. Shepard, Garrus and EDI have their weapons drawn as they search for him. In the corner of my field of vision, he de-cloaks. His second mistake. A human would have missed him – he is not used to fighting drell. He unsheathes a sword as he makes a dash, I track him. I fire once, twice, three times. Four, five. Six. He runs towards me, sword swinging. I duck, bringing the butt of my pistol into contact with the sword's hilt. He brings the sword around 270****. I pull back, my kick striking his left side. Stunned, he allows my roundhouse to strike his face. I charge biotics, flinging him across the room. I grab my gun calmly. His cloak will not have ample time to recharge, however, his shields are the strongest I have ever seen. I eject the spent thermal clip as he rights himself. He grabs his sword, I charge. My pistol muzzle must penetrate his shields for my shot to have an effect. I fire one to blind him, and another. He fires some kind of energy weapon from his hand, which I leap to avoid. I bring the pistol down at his head. Something is wrong. Recognition glimmers as I look down. Firing his energy weapon forced me away from the left, and he has struck with his right. A clever manoeuvre. The sword glints, my blood runs down to the hilt. **_**My**_** first mistake."**

I breathe deeply from the oxygen mask as the machines keeping me alive continue to issue their steady beeps. My doctors were rushing around frantically to start with, but eventually started to divert their efforts. I had heard Shepard's name dropped more than once in hushed tones. A human female doctor had rested her hand on my shoulder, reassuring me that Kolyat was on his way. I mustered the strongest smile that I could. Her sympathy was appreciated – a fact which perplexed me as much as it comforted me.

A resemblance perhaps? No. No human woman could remind me visually of Irikah, of course. But perhaps her gentle touch did so. Irikah was the last person to ever really touch me without intending me harm. There was the odd handshake here and there, more than a few physical examinations since my hospitalisation. But nothing truly familial, or comforting.

The pain was lessening in intensity, though I knew that time was short. Escape into my memories would ease the throbbing ache.

"**I hold Irikah close as we dance. The rain pours on Kahje, as it always does. The music is light and joyful, and Irikah laughs as I twirl her, playfully. Several Hanar pass nearby, offering congratulations. The fact that I was woken from my battle-sleep by this young woman does not bother the Hanar, who poured credits and time into my training. My awakened state makes me less effective and more inquisitive as to the histories of my targets. I would no longer be sent to exterminate threats to Kahje; I would merely be outsourced to the highest bidders. The Hanar view this not as an inconvenience, but an affirmation of their faith in the Enkindlers. I did good work for them, and I have my reward."**

I grimace as the memory ends. It is a favourite of mine. I viewed it often while on the Normandy, and here at Huerta Memorial. The memory of Irikah in my arms keeping me warm through lonely nights. There is another memory, one I do not wish to recall, but I must. If I am correct, this is the end, and my sins must not go unremembered as I ask for forgiveness one final time. I close my eyes, and dive in.

"_**I open the front door. 'Irikah?' I call. 'Kolyat?' I enter the lounge. Kolyat is under the table, knees raised to his chest, trembling. 'Your mother?' I ask. 'Where is she?' He doesn't respond. I run to the kitchen. The floor is slick with blood. Irikah lays on the table, naked, defiled. All the kitchen knives buried in her chest. I scream, the first time since I was a boy. I cradle her body as the rage builds to a crescendo, then burns into something new. Something unfamiliar. My battle-sleep has twinned with my rage. I know who did this. I know those responsible. I run from the house, Kolyat forgotten."**_

* * *

_Omega, Sahrabarik System, 2171 CE_

Local Time 00:58

Omega had been tumultuous of late. There had been what could only be described as a civil war raging in the streets. An odd state of affairs for a supposedly ungoverned space-station.

It had all started around a week before I had first arrived. Eclipse had been very much marginalised by Aria T'Loak's band of mercenaries. However, instead of seizing new ground, Aria had gambled. The Pirate Queen was intent on pushing Eclipse off her station for good, rather than simply beating them down. As such, the territory was rapidly being claimed by the Blue Suns and the Blood Pack.

However, the fighting over this territory was intense. Eventually, it turned personal. I was hired by the Blue Suns, through an intermediary, to take out the Blood Pack leader, Korrl. The mark was quite an easy assignment. The krogan, seemingly overconfident in his own abilities, had only three vorcha guards posted at his door.

I had dropped in through a vent, landing silently. I crept to the bed, drawing my pistol. I fired one shot underneath the slumbering krogan's chin and it was over. Sometimes I think the hanar just steal the other races' money. The vorcha rushed in to meet a perfect headshot each. I turned to jump back into the vent when something caught my eye.

A security camera was located in the top corner of the room, above the bed.

"By the Gods…" I whispered.

How had I missed it? Even if I shot it now it was too late, the footage would have been uploaded to a remote server seconds ago.

Footsteps were pounding down the hallway; it was too late to do anything now. I could only hope for the best as I jumped into the vent, the battle cry of an enraged krogan echoing behind me.

That was a month ago. With the death of their leader, the Blood Pack had immediately, and correctly, placed the blame at the feet of the Blue Suns. The Blue Suns were quickly annihilated by Korrl's enraged brother, Korakh. All turian members had been executed upon capture, while the humans and batarians had been grudgingly integrated into the Blood Pack. Even a blood-rage-hazed krogan recognised his prisoners were more useful as cannon fodder than corpses. A few thousand cans of red spray paint later and he was confident enough to turn his now huge army on Aria.

However, there was the issue of Korrl. His killer had to pay. A call to the Shadow Broker, and a substantial sum of credits, had yielded a name: Thane Krios.

Korakh dispatched some of his new recruits to Kahje. The squad of humans and batarians were told to kill everyone in the Krios residence, in a preferably grisly fashion, and have as much fun as they pleased with any females they encountered.

They did just that. They stormed my home, and, finding Irikah, had worked off their lusts on her before brutally ending her life. Something deep within me stirred. I would soon be working off my newly discovered bloodlust on them.

I checked my rifle. A simple, standard issue sniper rifle. As long as my shots were well placed, there would be no hope for my targets.

After clipping the rifle to its place on my back, I looked to my belt. An array of throwing blades adorned it for the first time in many years. I had not used them since my training, preferring hand-to-hand combat and occasional use of firearms.

An SMG took the place usually assigned to assault rifles at the small of my back. I had checked it many times on the way here.

My biotics flared as I clenched my fists. They had been seemingly super-powered since Irikah's death. When the blood haze clouded my head, I felt as though I could take on an asari commando unit with biotic power alone.

Completing my ensemble were two sets of twin pistols holstered on each leg. Overkill, perhaps. Certainly suspicious. However, such a heavily armed man was no rare sight on this godforsaken station.

My plan was simple. Slaughter everyone in this base who crossed my path. If I should die, so be it. My conscience faltered at the thought of that eventuality. I feared not for my own life, but for Kolyat's. I shook my head. He was in the care of Irikah's family, and under heightened security from the Hanar. He would be safe regardless of my status.

I checked my Omni-tool. The time was 00:59 exactly. I had paid a young quarian to hack the door control of the building in front of me. At 00:59:40, all doors in the Blood Pack base would open for exactly ten seconds, sealing down, locking, and _fusing_ in quarantine mode. No one in Blood Pack colours would escape retribution tonight.

I jumped from my perch and ran for the doors, raising two of my pistols at the heads of the two guards. I fired both pistols at the exact same moment, unleashing a single bang into the night air.

I frowned as the quarantine shutter began to fall in the open doorway at the same time as the corpses of the two guards. Clearly, my quarian's timing was off. I pumped my legs into a sprint as fast as I could, dropping into a slide as I sailed under the closing shutter. I scrabbled to my feet, eager to get out of range of the second set of doors that were about to slam shut. Decapitation in the hallway would be an embarrassing end.

I watched the doors slam right on time, a bright flash moving from the top to the bottom signalling the instant welding process. Clearly the quarian had only forgotten about the shutter, but had otherwise carried out his duties as instructed. The youngster would now be on a shuttle back to the flotilla to complete his pilgrimage, courtesy of his drell benefactor. One act of mercy was all I would manage today.

I holstered my pistols, moving up a flight of nearby stairs. As I reached the top, a human in sprayed red armour blocked my path, his back turned. I snapped his neck, hurling his corpse down the stairs, and cleared the last step.

The corridor was frustratingly empty. Why was the security so lax?

I looked to the left. The corridor served as an observation deck, overlooking a huge circular amphitheatre-style meeting hall. The glass continued all the way around the perimeter, around twenty feet above the heads of the crowd below. I stood in front of the glass pane, looking out at the gathered crowd. The krogan, Korakh, was marching up and down in front of his assembled krogan, batarian, human and vorcha troops. His words were obscured by the glass, but the resulting cheers of the crowd couldn't be drowned out.

I spotted a nearby holographic console. Crossing over to it, I went through the roster. Forty-eight krogan, one-hundred and thirteen humans, sixty-nine batarians, two-hundred and four vorcha. A total of four-hundred and thirty-four more lives would end tonight.

* * *

"Tonight, we will march on Afterlife!" The krogan roared. "We will decimate all in our path! We will crush Aria's band of pathetic space pirates! And then, we will find Aria herself! We will beat her into submission! And then…" He paused. "Everyone gets a turn!" He roared with laughter.

The crowd of soldiers roared in approval, lifting their assault rifles into the air.

*WHACK*

The krogan and his followers looked up to the observation deck, searching for the source of the sound.

*WHACK*

"Up there!" A vorcha rasped, pointing at a dark figure behind the glass. The figure struck out at the glass again.

*WHACK*

The glass splintered under the force of the blow. A crack in the glass started to zigzag all the way around the room, starting from the location of the mysterious figure. The sound of breaking glass resonated around the huge hall, and all in the crowd craned their necks to follow the noise.

The crack soon travelled full circle, coming to rest at its starting point by the strange figure. The stranger drew the pistol he had used to crack the glass and fired a single shot at the epicentre of the fracture.

The glass shattered instantly into a hailstorm of razor-sharp shards, with gravity pulling them down over the crowd. The mercenaries crouched to protect themselves, drawing their hands over their heads. As the shards rained down upon them, most bounced off their armour and dropped to the floor.

The mercenaries rose to their feet, brushing themselves off. A few had some unpleasant looking cuts, but no-one had been injured severely enough to count them out.

"Is that it!?" Korakh roared at the figure, fists clenched, baring his teeth.

In response, the figure stepped onto the now empty ledge. The figure was now easily distinguishable as a drell, the first that many of the troopers had ever seen, adorned with a large array of weapons.

"Well?!" The krogan roared again.

The drell didn't respond. Biotic energy began to crackle around him, far more than any drell should be able to produce. The biotic field flashed, glowing bright purple, causing an audible hum to weave into the air. The drell's palms were open wide as he raised his arms, his eyes plunging into the darkest blackness.

The shards scraped against the floor as they were trailed along the floor. Gathering momentum, the glass fragments began to levitate, and began to chime as they occasionally struck each other. The many fragments began to move as one, slowly circling the hall clockwise as the mercenaries watched, stunned.

The thousands of shards gained pace, rapidly accelerating as they followed their path. A rapidly moving shard flew through a human's eye, bursting out the back of his head, marking the start of the slaughter. The shards continued to accelerate, whipping into a biotic cyclone.

Shards started to rip through the Blood Pack mercenaries, many dropping from severe head injuries, their heads the only part of them mostly uncovered. The drell didn't even feel the exertion of his awesome display as the screams of the injured began to filter up. The blood of four species began to form a mist that permeated the swirling air, mixing to tinge the purple vortex with deep crimson.

After a couple of minutes, most of the soft-skinned humans and batarians had dropped, and the krogan with slower regeneration rates were struggling to stand in the hailstorm of broken glass. The drell wound down his biotic field, the sudden change in acceleration sending the shards hurtling into the wall. Some of the less injured had dragged themselves to the wall to lean against it.

Looking down at one of the vorcha troops, the drell extended his hand, biotically summoning something from the vorcha's bandolier.

* * *

The biotic field sent a crackle up my spine as I watched the blood of the troopers spill out onto the concrete floor. They were leaning in agony against the circular wall, trying to stop the blood from pouring out of various wounds to no avail. Bodies of the less fortunate victims of the glass were strewn around the hall.

I looked down at the incendiary grenade I had pulled into my hand. I removed the pin and simply dropped it from my position. It hurtled toward the ground, bouncing once, and then spewing flames into the closed hall.

Within moments the room became a giant funeral pyre. Flammable materials had clearly been stored here, and perhaps the fumes from the freshly painted armour were allowing to flames to take hold and travel quickly. The krogan and vorcha were the only species left standing as the flames took hold of the many bodies, and the vorcha were about to get a nasty surprise as the temperature rose.

As the rising temperature began to sear my skin, a loud bang heralded the start of the chain reaction that would consume the vorcha. The high temperatures were catalysing the chemical mix inside the incendiary grenades still attached to the vorcha troops, effectively turning them into suicide bombers.

Secondary explosions began to rip through the hall, vaporising several unlucky vorcha and fuelling the fires even further. The heat from the convection currents whipped around my face and the brightness of the fire hurt my eyes. For the first time, I shielded my face as the intensity of the heat started to prove too much. I stumbled backwards from the plinth, landing back in the corridor. Explosions still echoed down in the hall, but they were decreasing in frequency.

Some of the krogan would be dead by now, but a fair few would have survived. The same applied to the vorcha who didn't have grenades on their person. It was all about the individual regeneration rate.

I hadn't heard a bang go off for a few minutes now, and the flames seemed to have receded slightly. The fires were still burning in the hall, around ten krogan were left standing, roaring in rage and pain as their skin and eyes repaired. There were still around twenty vorcha. Their fantastic reputation for cellular regeneration was clearly well earned.

"_Time to take the fight to them."_ I decided, charging my biotics again. I felt my field shroud me in energy as I stepped back onto the plinth. Looking down at the devastation, I saw the fires still burning brightly, convection currents whipping around my face. Taking a deep breath, I allowed my body to fall over the edge, diving headfirst into the inferno.

* * *

I slowed my fall, watching the surrounding krogan and vorcha draw their weapons. I drew myself up from my crouch to my full height, charging my biotic field as much as I could.

A howl of rage escaped my lips as I unleashed my biotics in a shockwave, knocking the mercenaries off their feet and extinguishing some of the smaller fires around my own.

As the mercenaries scrabbled to their feet, I drew my SMG. Starting at my left, I pulled the trigger, swinging the weapon around my body as I did so. I arched backwards as I directed the fire over to the right. I finally swung my feet upwards into a one-handed handstand as I brought the firing pattern full circle.

Righting myself, I saw that the SMG had had little effect on target, though there were now four less vorcha due to lucky headshots. I threw the overheated SMG into the newly-healed eye of a charging krogan, stunning him badly.

I drew my top two pistols. Ducking and diving as bullets started to fly past me, I got in close to the vorcha for headshots, avoiding the krogan as best I could for the moment. Friendly fire was helping me out, as the vorcha were too stupid to wait to aim.

The vorcha had already accidentally cut down a krogan for me, and I was getting in close for the headshots, without taking too much fire. A krogan to my right had taken his time to aim with his shotgun, firing while charging. My shields were decimated by the blast, though my body and armour emerged unscathed. As I performed a rotating neck snap on my attacker, the reality hit me that I was now far more likely to die.

As the krogan landed next to me with a thud, I took stock of the situation. The fires were extremely punishing, especially on my skin. Luckily, my opponents were feeling it too. Only two vorcha remained, but there were still six krogan. I holstered my first set of pistols. Time to check on my knife throwing skills. I jumped into the air, sending the first knife into the eye of a krogan and penetrating its brain. As it fell, I twisted in the air, doing the same to the krogan trying to flank me.

Suddenly, another incendiary grenade went off, vaporising the vorcha it was attached to and dousing the rest of us in flames. The second vorcha flew across the room, its arms and legs ripped off by the intensity of the blast. I dropped to the floor, rolling as best I could in an attempt to quash the flames that had taken hold of my clothes. It wasn't working. I rose to my feet, tearing my jacket off and sending my rifle clattering to the floor. I ignored it for now, sending to knives into both eye sockets of one of the three remaining krogan.

As the blood seeped from its eye sockets and it fell to its knees, I flipped backward, ready to perform the coup de grace on the two krogan directly behind me. I drew my pistols in mid-air, landing on my knees. I jammed the muzzle of each pistol under the jaw of each krogan, pulling both triggers. The brain matter of each krogan cascaded into the air in liquefied droplets, raining down over me.

Suddenly, I was catapulted backwards with a loud bang. As I skidded to a halt, I looked down at the dozens of pellets dug deep into my thin layer armour. The krogan who I had blinded mere seconds ago had drawn his shotgun and fired a lucky shot right at me. The shotgun clattered to the floor and the krogan fell to one side. He was definitely dead this time.

* * *

I rose to my feet. The fires were growing in intensity once more as more bodies were being consumed. Across the hall from me, one final krogan rose to his feet.

He said nothing, only letting out a guttural roar as he readied his shotgun and began to charge. I summoned my rifle into my hands, firing powerful shots as quickly as I could at the oncoming juggernaut. The sniper rifle overheated quickly and I tossed it to the side, drawing twin pistols and charging myself.

As we neared each other, the krogan brought up his shotgun. I jumped, somersaulting over him and unloading my pistols as quickly as I could. I landed on my feet and tossed them aside, drawing a single pistol and bringing it straight at the krogan.

The krogan turned faster than I thought possible and smacked the pistol out of my hand, sending it clattering across the floor. I charged my biotics to form a barrier as the krogan unloaded a shotgun blast at point blank range, sending me skidding backwards. Still standing, I prepared a biotic throw.

Suddenly, my biotic field detonated, sending me hurtling across the room once more.

"_How?"_ I wondered as I slammed painfully into the wall and tumbled into one of the larger fires. I leapt out as quick as I could, batting the flames off me, just in time to see a biotic field building around my adversary.

I was suddenly yanked off my feet as a pull field drew me towards the krogan. He clearly was the true definition of a Battlemaster after all.

"Who sent you?" Korakh rasped as he held the drell aloft. The hot air had scorched the krogan's airway and voice box.

I didn't reply. I was at the mercy of the Battlemaster now, floating helplessly, trapped in his biotic field. The krogan turned the pull into a slam, sending me crashing into the floor. I both heard and felt my ribs cracking. Nevertheless, my hand crept down to my remaining pistol.

"WHO!?" He roared as best he could, his voice straining.

Another incendiary grenade went off nearby, breaking Korakh's concentration and causing him to drop his field. I drew the pistol as fast as I could, firing shots into both of the krogan's kneecaps. He roared in pain as I rose shakily to my feet and approached him, holstering my pistol.

"Aria…" He growled.

"No." I replied truthfully, summoning my discarded sniper rifle.

"Then who?" The krogan asked as I pointed the muzzle of the high-calibre weapon at his head.

"Irikah." I replied simply, pulling the trigger. The round tore through the krogan's head plating and through to his spine. The deceased Battlemaster slumped to the ground with a dull thud.

I froze. I hadn't said her name aloud since I found her body. It awakened something… something old…

**Laser dot trembles on his skull. One finger-twitch, he dies. Then the smell of spice on the spring wind. Sunset-coloured eyes defiant in the scope. The laser dances away.**

"No, not now-" I groaned, collapsing to my knees as the flames rose higher.

**Her body trembles. Not fear. Indignation. Her mouth moves. "How dare you?"**

I looked to my hands as the flames consumed the room. They dripped with the blood of four species. Many of them I had burned alive tonight. Their burned, tortured faces stared up at me from the ground, twisted in agony.

The doors were fused shut. Kolyat. My boy. My son. I would never see him again. The flames began to crumble the stonework of the room, the building starting to fall apart. There was very little oxygen left as the flames rose even higher.

As I gasped in what I was sure to be my last breath, I condemned myself. For the first time, I was glad Irikah had departed this life. If she knew what I had done in her name…

* * *

_The Shadow Broker Base, Hagalaz, 2185 CE_

The Shadow Broker fumed as he watched Shepard and T'Soni decimate his private army. An array of screens detailed their progress along the hull. The Broker rose from his seat, crossing the room to a weapons locker. As he readied his Revenant machine gun, the VI drone popped up.

"_Facial scan on the third intruder is complete, Shadow Broker."_ The drone stated.

The Broker turned to eye the floating hologram. Shepard and T'Soni had been aided on Illium by the turian known as Archangel. However, the third intruder was no turian: he was easily identifiable as a drell.

"_Subject has been confirmed to within 0.003% probability of error to be Thane Krios."_

"Open file, Thane Krios." The Broker rumbled.

"_Working... Thane Krios. Drell. Responsible for the One-Hour Massacre on Omega in 2171. Performed many high profile assassinations, including that of former diplomat Nassana Dantius earlier this year. Recently recruited by Cerberus Operative and Spectre John Shepard. Diagnosed with Kepral's Syndrome in 2183. One son, name Kolyat Krios, C-Sec recruit."_

"Enough." The Broker replied. "Relation to the Prisoner Zero-Zero-One?"

"_Working… No familial relation detected."_

As he brought up the security footage of the One-Hour Massacre, the Shadow Broker breathed a sigh of relief that the drell wasn't here fighting for a member of his family. Though he had forgotten the name, the image of the biotic whirlwind of broken glass was certainly memorable. Nevertheless, taking the drell out first would be the top priority.

* * *

_Omega, Sahrabarik System, 2171 CE_

Local Time 01:50

The rain poured down my face. It always rains on Kahje… Irikah is wearing her wedding gown, smiling her sweet, loving smile. The rain makes its way into my mouth, soothing my scorched throat.

Wait… this isn't a memory.

A hard slap to my face brings me back to consciousness. An asari is looming over me.

Raindrops are running down her face, bringing attention to her rare lilac skin tone, and she is wearing a high collared white jacket. This can only be one woman. Aria T'Loak.

"Drell!" She snapped. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes." I replied, blearily gazing to the roof. "The rain…"

"It's the sprinkler system, jackass." The asari replied. "Though not a very good one, I admit."

Two batarians grabbed me under my arms and hoisted me to my feet. Melted glass covered the floor like a coat of varnish, some of the drops from the sprinklers boiling and evaporating on contact as they hit the still smouldering surface. Aria's men stumbled on the slippery surface as they dragged corpses away from the centre of the room, piling them up against the walls. Others were moving around the room with fire extinguishers, quashing any small fires that remained.

"I don't think I want to know what happened here." Aria began, drawing my attention back to her. "But, seeing as you did my job for me… You've got yourself a free pass. Get the hell out of here."

With that, the batarians dragged me to the freshly unsealed door and threw me unceremoniously out into the street.

* * *

_Huerta Memorial Hospital, The Citadel, 2186 CE_

I gasped as my memories of Omega faded. My darkest moments still stirred something awful within my soul. I had spent months afterwards in silent prayer, atoning for the hundreds of lives I had taken. By the time I returned to Kolyat, he shunned me. He correctly assumed that I was somehow responsible for his mother's death. Only later did he discover just how correct he was.

The decompression hiss of the door signalled Kolyat's arrival. The doctors around me turned to him, whispering quietly, explaining that my time was short. He nodded, and they quietly dismissed themselves.

"Father…" He began, crossing to my bedside. I smiled at him through my ventilation mask. "The councillor is safe. The doctors are preparing a room for me to give more blood."

I gestured to my mask. His brow furrowed in concern, but he understood my meaning. He gently lifted my mask away.

"Thank you, son." I managed to reply. I gently grasped the hand he rested on my bed. He squeezed it reassuringly.

The door opened again to reveal a nurse.

"We're ready for you, Sere Krios." The young human said. Kolyat turned to leave, but I kept hold of his hand. He looked down at my smile as I gently shook my head.

"The room… is no longer required." Kolyat replied, his eyes falling to the floor. The nurse crossed the room and configured my medication system, allowing painkillers to course through my veins. He also raised the bed to a comfortable reclining position as he cleared my mask apparatus to one side. With a simple nod to my son, he left the room silently.

"Kolyat… look at me." I requested softly.

His eyes rose from the floor to meet mine. Looking into his eyes took me back to my first sight of Irikah. I held that thought, and the accompanying tidal wave of memories, at bay. I had mourned Irikah for over a decade. These were my final moments to spend with my son. There was only one memory I wished to relive right now.

* * *

_Drell Specialist Maternity Ward, Enkindlers Truth Hospital, Kahje 2165 CE_

As a first-time father, I was not particularly young for a drell. A standard lifespan for my species spanned generally a humble eighty-five standard years. Having spent so much time on Kahje, Kepral's syndrome was near a certainty for most of the drell population, lowering that average to around seventy. Drell reached their adulthood by around age thirteen. At age nineteen, having been in the business of taking lives for seven years, I had finally contributed a life to the cosmos.

Irikah was panting. The birth, as in most species, was hardly painless, but the Hanar doctor assured us both that as drell births go this had gone well.

Irikah shot the Hanar a look that allowed him to register her disagreement. I let out a sigh and a smile lit up my face as I kissed her forehead. If she could pour scorn on another wordlessly, she was fine.

The drell nurse had taken our child to clean him or her up and make her measurements. Finishing these tasks quickly, she returned the bundle to Irikah.

"Congratulations." The nurse smiled. "It's a boy!"

Irikah beamed and choked back a sob as I stared down at my new-born son in her arms. I was silent for the moment, the enormity of the situation gripping me. Irikah would be a great mother, without a doubt. But me, as a father?

Seemingly sensing my thoughts, Irikah laid a hand on my knee as I sat on the edge of her bed.

"Don't worry my love." She reassured me, smiling brightly. "You'll be a wonderful father."

As she handed me our son for the first time, I resolved to do my best.

"It's time to start parenting." I smiled. "Our first objective… a name."

My son wriggled in my arms at the sight of my smile. His sunset eyes – Irikah's eyes – stared up at me, blinking in the bright hospital light.

"Did I ever tell you about my grandfather?" Irikah asked sweetly.

"Only around forty or so times, _Sera Krios_." I laughed, using her married name.

"Well _Sere Krios_," she replied, "can you think of a better name?"

"I can't." I replied honestly.

The first Kolyat was a drell on the homeworld, Rakhana, who had given up his seat on the hanar evacuation shuttle to Irikah's great-great grandfather. Her ancestor was a mere four years old at the time, but the rules of the Compact were strict – one drell to one seat. So thankful was she for the stranger's sacrifice, the boy's mother changed her son's name to Kolyat upon reaching Kahje. When Kolyat had a son of his own, he named the boy Kolyat. This continued until the birth of Irikah, a female, and the only child born to her parents. The tradition was seemingly over.

"Well, what's one missed generation against such a grand tradition?" I laughed.

"Plus, with the name Kolyat Krios…" She looked at me, smiling. "He's named after _two_ of my heroes."

* * *

_Huerta Memorial Hospital, The Citadel, 2186 CE_

I snapped from my reverie with a gasp. Kolyat, who had been looking out of the observation window, turned to me.

"My apologies Kolyat." I breathed heavily. "My solipsism… It's becoming difficult to…"

Kolyat smiled.

"No apology necessary father. I was doing the same myself."

He crossed the room to my bed once more. Silence falling between us.

"I love you son." I informed him, breaking the silence as I gripped his forearm. "I only wish I was the father you deserved."

Kolyat smiled sadly, taking a deep breath.

"Well, you got there in the end." He replied, his hand finding mine once more.

The truth in his words humbled me. Knowing my worsening condition after the assault on the Collectors, I came directly to the Citadel. To Kolyat. The months we had spent together had been wonderful, if a little strained at first.

"I hope…" I began, the strain becoming worse, "you will have… your own family one day…" I swallowed. "And that they… will bring you as much… happiness… as you and your mother brought me."

Kolyat and I seemed to be both struggling to hold back tears. As I stared into his eyes one final time, the door opened.

John Shepard stood in the doorway, his keen eyes taking in the situation.

"_I always assumed that man would be the death of me."_ I smiled at the morbid thought.

"Commander Shepard." Kolyat greeted the man. "My father mentioned you were no longer incarcerated. I don't know if you remember me. I'm Kolyat Krios. I came to donate blood and… well…"

Kolyat paused, letting the sentence hang in the air.

"He asked me to take off his oxygen mask so he could be comfortable. I don't think it will be very long." Kolyat explained.

Shepard spoke for the first time since entering the room.

"Your father helped me save a lot of lives. I'd like to be here." He informed Kolyat softly.

"Of course." Kolyat replied.

Shepard took a tentative step towards me.

"Commander, I'm afraid I won't be joining you again." I informed him wryly.

"You've done more than enough, Thane." He replied.

"That assassin should be embarrassed." I stated. "A terminally ill drell managed to stop him from reaching his target."

"I'll pass the word along." He replied, a smile gracing the corners of his lips.

I had to do something while Shepard was here. I began to explain, but a coughing fit seized me just in time to interrupt my prayer. To my surprise, Kolyat resumed where I left off.

I voiced my approval to him as he crossed the room. He tentatively offered Shepard the opportunity to join him in prayer. To my surprise, Shepard graciously accepted.

As the two read alternating lines from the scriptures, I turned my head to gaze out at the Presidium. Solipsism took hold, one final time.

* * *

_The Collector Base, 2185 CE_

Bullets whizzed over my head as I ducked behind cover next to Jacob.

"A little bit more action than you're used to, Krios?" The Cerberus operative smirked. He had never liked me since the moment I had stepped on board the Normandy. My initial thought was that the Cerberus employee objected simply to my being a drell, though he quickly confirmed otherwise.

"Not really." I replied, calmly rising to my feet and downing two Collector drones with perfect headshots, before dropping back into cover. Jacob rose as I ducked, and I swept his leg out from under him, causing him to fall unceremoniously onto his behind.

"What was that for?" He asked, growling. As the wall behind him exploded into a thousand or more pieces from rocket fire, he realised his question had been rendered moot.

I looked to my shipmates, each of them holding the line dutifully. Mordin had made it back to the Normandy with the crew, and Shepard had elected to take Tali and Garrus with him into the central chamber.

"Thanks… Thane." Jacob said slowly, using my first name for the first time.

"Anytime." I replied, rolling into place next to Jack.

"Hey frog-boy." She greeted, nodding at me. "All set?"

I nodded, popping out of cover and pulling a group of five Collectors with a biotic field. I dropped back into a crouch and Jack immediately aimed a shockwave at the helplessly suspended drones.

An echoing bang heralded the dismemberment of the floating Collectors, and Grunt's echoing laugh signalled that at least a few more had been caught in the blast. The young krogan had decided that cover was unnecessary to hold the line, and was charging up and down the battlefield taking out Collectors with head-butts and shotgun blasts.

He laughed with glee as he crushed the skull of an attacker under his armoured boot. Shaking my head at his antics, I changed places in the line. I found myself next to Miranda.

"Are you alright for thermal clips?" She asked.

"Fine." I nodded.

"We need suppressing fire on the right side!" Zaeed roared over the din caused by his assault rifle at the end of the line. I switched to my SMG and followed the order, Zaeed, Samara, Miranda and I unleashing automatic weapons fire at the throng of Collectors attempting to flank us.

The Collectors cut down, I ducked to reload. Kasumi was nearby, shaking as she readied a flashbang. I beckoned her towards me.

"Are you OK?" I asked loudly over the noise of gunfire.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm fine." She replied hurriedly.

"Take my place." I commanded, moving up the line. Hopefully proximity to Jacob and the always calm Miranda would reassure her. I moved up next to Samara, who herself was next to Zaeed.

Wordlessly, we got on with our defence of the line, picking our targets carefully and supporting each other's biotic attacks.

A frustrated growl came from further up the battlefield. Incoming flying Collectors had dropped on Grunt in mid-air, and he was now desperately trying to shake them off, while simultaneously taking fire from the ground-based drones.

I looked to Samara and Zaeed. All three of us nodded. There would be no man left behind.

* * *

We broke cover, vaulting over into the main battleground. Zaeed fired rounds and concussive blasts as Samara alternated between weapons fire and biotics. I concentrated on sprinting to the stricken young krogan, relying on the two to both cover me and follow close behind. Collectors who blocked my path met quick ends with point blank headshots from my twin pistols.

About twenty meters away, Grunt was weakening, Collectors clawing at his head and neck. I pushed my legs to their limit, closing in. For once, there wasn't time for finesse. I dove into the pile of Collectors atop the krogan, throwing them off with biotics, scattering them all around.

I collapsed on top of Grunt as he fell to the ground with a thud. The scratch marks on his neck were already regenerating, fading to yield the normal scaly skin. Grunt huffed as he stirred. He had blacked out momentarily.

An approaching Collector was lifted off its feet by a concussive blast as Zaeed approached, Samara not far behind him.

I rolled to the ground, drawing my pistols as Grunt and I rose to our feet. We had split far from the other group. Collectors were flying in to face us, dropping mere feet away, surrounding us at every point.

"Grunt, shotgun. Samara, biotics. Thane, pistols." Zaeed recommended as we moved back-to-back.

"Acknowledged." I replied.

"Confirmed." Samara said, glowing blue with biotic energy.

"Ready!" Grunt shouted, pumping his shotgun.

"Let's give 'em hell!" Zaeed growled, popping his spent thermal clip and reloading.

The Collectors charged as one, their hive-like home clearly endowing them with a hive-like mentality.

We all fired powers and biotics as one as the Collectors swarmed us, but they were too fast. Grunt and Samara were doing well at short range, as was I, but Zaeed was struggling to aim as the Collectors massed.

I turned, aiming a pistol over each of his shoulders, exhausting each clip to maximum as I fired rapidly into his attackers. I felt Grunt lash out at a Collector at my back with one hand, the deafening blast of his shotgun being fired with the other stunning me. Samara yelled in exertion as she sent out a shockwave, masterfully avoiding us while hitting the Collectors.

The Collectors were thrown backwards as I shoved my SMG into Zaeed's hand. The grizzled mercenary nodded in thanks as he took it, and I turned back to cover my section. The Collectors had already scrabbled to their feet.

Zaeed was clearly far more effective with the SMG at this range, cutting down approaching Collectors, allowing each of us to hold our own.

"I'm out!" Grunt yelled, lifting the Claymore over his head with both hands and brutally clubbing a Collector in the head.

"Me too!" I yelled, holstering my pistols and charging biotics. We were not doing badly, maybe twenty Collectors were left in the crowd. Five for each of us.

Grunt unleashed a colossal punch at a Collector, instantly breaking its neck, swinging back with the same arm to club another. I unleashed a throw as Zaeed grabbed a Collector by the neck, his own ammo supply exhausted too. He turned and crouched, flipping the Collector over his back. A crack indicated its head separating from its spine. While he crouched, I rolled over his back, crossing to another drone, grabbing its head and jumping into a rotating neck snap. A flash in the corner of my eye caused me to lean back, as Samara executed a perfect spinning kick on a drone sneaking up behind me.

Zaeed had adopted a boxing pose, throwing punches and blocking incoming talons. Grunt charged to the old merc's aid, swatting the insectoid attackers aside. Samara's biotics were exhausted, and she was finding it hard to continue, taking several blows. Taking a deep breath, I threw myself in between the Justicar and the attacking drones, taking the blows for her.

The blows striking my already battered body were excruciating as they hailed down upon me. Just when I thought I could take no more, the drones were gripped by a biotic field, being raised skywards. As I fell backwards, dual concussive blasts disintegrated the floating attackers. All went quiet as I collapsed into the arms of the Justicar.

"Thane…" She panted as she checked my injuries. "You nearly sacrificed yourself…"

"That was the plan." I replied. Grunt and Zaeed knelt by my side, Zaeed applying Medi-gel with his Omni-tool.

The medicine flowing through my veins, I righted myself with Samara's help. Grunt flopped down in front of me, hitting the ground hard, laughing uproariously.

Zaeed gently lowered himself to the ground next to him, withdrawing a cigar from a pouch. He leaned back to back with the krogan, as he lit the tobacco stick with a flash of his Omni-tool.

"Nice work everyone." He acknowledged before he inhaled from the lit cigar.

Samara rose behind me, gently lifting me by the elbow.

"Thank you." I said.

"No, thank _you_." She replied, a rare smile forming on her face.

"Oh… shit." Zaeed cursed as he rose to his feet, looking beyond us to a raised plinth.

I turned to whatever had grabbed his attention. Three, six, nine, twelve Collectors. Guns drawn, aiming down their sights at the four of us.

Grunt and Zaeed rose, standing shoulder to shoulder with Samara and I.

We looked at each other, nodding in recognition, silently resigned to our fate.

I closed my eyes.

*BANG*

I opened my eyes in shock, the head of one Collector exploding. The bang was rapidly accompanied by eleven more, the Collectors being decapitated with surgical precision from left to right. We looked at each other in shock, turning our gaze back to the plinth.

Zaeed's Viper sniper rifle, which he had left back at the barricade, suddenly flew over the edge. Zaeed lunged, catching it.

Our saviour approached the edge of the plinth, readying its own sniper rifle.

"Collectors terminated." Legion stated in its robotic monotone. "We suggest immediate retreat to Normandy."

Jack, Kasumi, Miranda and Jacob finally caught up to us.

"We do not recommend hesitance." Legion added, noting our lack of movement. "Addendum: detonation of nuclear device in nine minutes."

"Well." Zaeed said, nudging me with his elbow as the group began to run. "Looks like we got to be big goddamn heroes after all."

* * *

As the memory faded, I remembered their faces once last time.

Zaeed. Grunt. Samara. Jack. Jacob. Mordin. Legion. Miranda. Tali. Garrus. Kasumi… Shepard. The twelve people who turned me from a killer into a hero.

Irikah… and Kolyat. The two people who turned me from an empty shell into a man.

I gazed out at the Presidium. C-Sec officers were rushing around. Cars filled the skies, people no doubt desperate to check on their relatives. The vibrant blue of the simulated skies reflected off the deep reservoirs. The Citadel represented the best the galaxy had to offer. A galaxy which currently struggled against an overwhelming force. A galaxy uniting to defeat the Reapers. Outside were millions of people, each with their own stories, their own highs and lows.

Unless they were stopped, no being would every really have a story of their own again.

As I looked at the gathered crowds I recognised turians and krogan, humans and batarians. Members of all races, who until now would not even converse with each other, uniting to bring about the end of the reapers, and restore hope to a galaxy where hope was rapidly becoming scarce.

With my last breath… I wished them luck.


	2. Author's Note

Author's Note:

Usually, I wouldn't leave any message after my work. However, I just want to clarify that any 'mistakes' here relating to canon were artisitic decisions. If any reader wished to categorise this as an alternate universe story due to these changes/omissions, I wouldn't object, but my intention was to write something that could be weaved into canon.

It is well established that Irikah was killed by batarian slavers who had been persecuting hanar, but I felt it would be difficult to use that as the basis for the story, hence the changes.

Years and dates are also rough approximations.

Thanks for reading!

time2thrASH


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